"They said she was gone. But Bly doesn't let anyone go."
It rained for three days straight.
The garden flooded. The statues wept water from their stone eyes. And Ivy never left Miles's room.
She barely remembered what sunlight looked like.
She spent her nights wrapped in his arms, listening to the storm. Her body ached, her soul throbbed with hunger she didn't understand. Every whisper, every look, every touch from Miles only fed it.
But something else was happening.
Something darker.
On the fourth morning, Ivy stood at the mirror.
It didn't show her reflection.
It showed Kate.
Her sister.
Standing in the hallway. Soaked in lake water. Her skin pale, lips blue, her eyes glassy with sorrow.
"Ivy," Kate whispered. "He's not real."
Ivy backed away from the mirror, shaking.
"Stop it," she said aloud. "You're dead. You left me."
The mirror shattered.
And behind her—
Footsteps.
Mrs. Grose had been gone for days.
No one mentioned it.
Not Miles. Not Flora. Not even the house.
But Ivy remembered what Flora had said near the lake.
"She didn't listen. So now she sleeps."
And the way Flora had looked at the water...
Like it was alive.
Like it had taken something from her.
Someone.
That afternoon, Ivy went to the greenhouse.
She needed to breathe.
But even the air here smelled like decay now. Like death blooming behind every flower.
She found Flora sitting in the dirt, cradling her headless doll.
"Why don't you run?" Ivy asked softly. "Why do you stay?"
Flora didn't look up.
"Because he loves me," she said. "And he loves you."
"He's not—"
"He's everything, Ivy."
Her voice wasn't a child's anymore.
Back in the house, Ivy wandered the hallways. Everything looked different. Walls slanted. Paintings moved when she blinked. Doors whispered.
She passed Kate's old bedroom.
The door creaked open.
Inside: untouched. Like she'd only stepped out for tea.
On the vanity sat a photograph. Ivy picked it up.
It was the two of them. Back before everything. Before Bly. Before Miles.
She missed her.
But she wasn't sure who "her" even was anymore.
Not Kate.
Not Ivy.
Anyone.
That night, Miles came to her again.
He kissed her forehead, slow and soft.
"You're changing," he said.
"I know."
"Do you like it?"
"I don't know."
He brushed her hair from her eyes. "You will."
Then he pressed his lips to hers, and the world faded. There was no house. No past. No death.
Only him.
She dreamed of the lake.
Dark. Endless. Pulling.
Kate stood on the surface like glass, reaching for her.
"Come back," she pleaded. "Before it's too late."
But Ivy couldn't move.
Something held her. Cold hands wrapped around her waist. A voice whispered in her ear.
"You belong to me now."
And she smiled.